Jackie Allen

Jackie Allen Poems

1. With Apologies To Salvadore Dali 6/24/2013
2. Who Knows? 6/24/2013
3. Wings Of A Butterfly 6/24/2013
4. A Moment For All Time 6/24/2013
5. Dark Rains 6/26/2013
6. Between Here And Now 6/26/2013
7. Indite 6/26/2013
8. On His Knees 6/26/2013
9. Upon Reflection 6/26/2013
10. Last Will And Testament 6/26/2013
11. Universal Mystery 6/26/2013
12. The Sweet Elixir Of Life 6/26/2013
13. The Sultry Hours Of Longing 6/26/2013
14. One Excuse, Or Another 6/27/2013
15. Holding The Future In My Hands 6/29/2013
16. Mining The Resources Of One's Mind 6/30/2013
17. Offending Pages 6/30/2013
18. Hath I Not Wings? 7/5/2013
19. A New Way, A New Day 7/6/2013
20. The Parting Scene 7/10/2013
21. The Painting 7/25/2013
22. The Door 7/25/2013
23. If Only.... 6/29/2013
24. Surrender To Love 7/27/2013
25. Make Mine Strong 7/27/2013
26. Remembering A Promise 8/6/2013
27. Self Portrait 8/16/2013
28. From A Tarnished Dream 8/16/2013
29. Ever Yet The Fool 6/1/2014
30. Full Of It 6/30/2014
31. The Preface 6/30/2014
32. Of Sour Grapes And Wine 7/1/2014
33. Serendipity 9/6/2015
34. Seeking A Place Of Peace 9/6/2015
35. And, So It Is... 9/6/2015
36. The Healing Touch 9/6/2015
37. Chasing Butterflies 9/6/2015
38. My Story 9/7/2015
39. Novel 9/7/2015
40. Biography 9/7/2015

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Best Poem of Jackie Allen

I Am What I Am

When I was but a wee child,
two or three or more,
I dreamed that I could fly like a butterfly.
Over the mountains,
on wings of adventure
I sought out branches of laurel
and like a fairy,
I crowned my head with a ring of joy.

High above, when the clouds
up in the sky began to darken, began to cry,
I wished, at ten or so, that I was as small
as a mouse, so that I could scamper
into the rhubarb patch
and hide beneath their umbrella-like leaves,
munching on their juicy red stems,
making mouse-like noises.

Early in my teens, ...

Read the full of I Am What I Am

Time Of Reckoning

Yesterday, he fell into a vat of self 
pity, and with intent, stirred up the past...
drank of its bitter wine...
a pathetic, defeated man.

O, morning sun, be thou his true witness...
The hour of reckoning is knocking at
his door...He asks if life‘s rhyme is but a ruse,  
and he but a pale shadow?

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